Blue Doll House
by Like.Wait.WHAT
Summary: Can fixing the blue doll house that Renee had as a childhood mend the broken heart my dad caused? I wasn't too sure, but she's worth trying. Bella&Edward, R
1. Caved in Roof

Summary: Bella's father cheated, Bella being the one to catch him in the ethical act. Now Bella is not too sure about boys, love or anything of the like and instead focuses on healing her and her moms broken heart.

However, what happens when she and her mom decide to move to Forks, into Bella's moms childhood home that was left to them after her grandparents passing? Will she let others in?

What about Edward, the hot, guitar player, that catches Belle's eye?

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**Will there's the short summary. I've had this in my head in a WHOLE different way, but put it on hold for a really long time, and redid it from scratch because I really hated it. I changed the name and made it a bit different and I think it's turning out pretty good. I hope you like it.**

**Enjoy!**

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~*~Blue Doll House~*~

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Prologue: Caved in Roof

BPOV:

_When I was younger,_  
_I saw my daddy cry,_  
_And curse at the wind._  
_He broke his own heart,_  
_And I watched,_  
_As he tried to reassemble it._

Why can't I be mad? All I should want to do is smash breakable items that were in my line of sight, scream on the top of my lungs to let out the fury so everyone knew how pissed I am, or kick and scream at the one that hurt me. I just don't feel that. However, what I did feel was drain of energy, scared like a little kid, sad, and most of all betrayed. I think betrayed was the sole emotion; it sat at the bottom of my stomach like a huge boulder, and I hate it. Why can't I just fucking be _mad_? I should be mad! It was within my rights.

Younger, I looked up to my mother and father's love. It was one thing I always thought was solid; as a for life kind of thing. Like a flower, it could even grow to something even more beautiful then it already was.

Never in my life would I have guessed it could eventually end, with me stuck in the middle, which is the worst place to be for a kid.

I had always felt my parents had a love that just never would get old. Their age, appearance, and bodies would age over time, but their love would forever be young, it would be a fragment of their younger self's. I often would dream I would one day have that. More so, they made the perfect match. My father was quiet, and austere, being the cop that he was. Charlie was also very withdrawn, not cold per say, but just not very talkative and could be awkward at times. My mother was spunky, loud, and comfy in her own skin. She could drift to different things and people that spunk her interest and do with it effortlessly. She loved making new friends, and having company. The two balanced each other out perfectly.

However, lately my parent's marriage have been a bit rocky, up and down, like a boat trying to get its bearings on a stormy ocean. Every relationship _did_ have there few bumps, I knew that, nothing is perfect, know matter how much we wish for it to be.

Then one Monday everything changed for me. Those small bumps altered into mountains I couldn't see over. I just knew right there my mother and father were forever over.

Why?

Because my father was kissing my teacher on our couch; the couch that was hand picked by me when I was six.

When I walked into my living room that Monday, humming a relaxing melody that's been an echo in my head all day under my breath, I caught my father and my Math teacher plastered against one another, kissing, bestowing the worst image ever. I dropped my guitar (my pride and joy), my slippy fingertips not able to keep a good grip. It clattered to the carpet floor noisy, breaking the two apart.

When he caught sight of me, his whole face drained of color, brown eyes wide in surprise, "Bella." My dad breathed, jumping off the couch, "what are you doing home so early? No, I mean this is _not_ what it looks like," he glanced over at my teacher, and once more back at me.

I looked over at my teacher Miss. Zeke. Her dark blond hair was trussed from aggressive fingertips, like a birds nest, with red swollen lips that dipped down in a nervous and fidgety frown. The two top silver oval buttons of her creme white blouse were popped open, showcasing her cleavage and lacy lavender bra. Lingering lust pored out of her dark gray eyes as she stared up at my father. Might as well paint the word 'slut' in red across her forehead.

I turned watery eyes to my dad, my eyes not competent to even look at her without the need to slap her. I tried hard to hold the glare. It was hard as fuck with the feelings starting to stir within me, squashing my heart, choking it of air. "Oh yeah? Because it looks like you were shoving your tongue down my Math teachers throat who isn't mom!"

I crossed my arms, digging my fingertips into my arms, molding half moon shape dents. The pain was welcomed.

"I..." he trailed off. He ran his hand through his thin curly brown hair and finally asked me, "are you going to tell your mother?"

I looked at him as if he had sprouted a dinosaur head out of his neck. Yes I was going to tell her, how could I not?

I ignored the question, instead picked my guitar case off the floor, "how long?" I asked coldly.

"Huh?"

"How long have you been cheating on us!" I yelled totally losing it by now. I could feel my self restrained ebbing away, bleeding into anger. My face flamed red, breaths coming out in puffs of jerky oxygen. He cheated on us! He cheated on my mom. He betrayed her, therefore he betrayed me too. How could he? Why did he?

He hung his head, kneeing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. "About two months," he muttered,

My mouth dropped open, and then close, and once again open, doing a good gold fish expression. Two months?

I full on laughed. It sounded bitter to my ears, "You know what, you're telling her. I will not, and I hope she leaves your ass," I barked harshly.

"Bella that is no way to talk to you father," he said face twisting in anger.

"No. You lost the job of being my dad when you decided to _do_ that," I informed him all the while waving my hand at my slut of a teacher, who sat sill and silent on my couch. What the bitch got nothing to say now? She should, since my father's tongue was not longer shoved down her throat.

I couldn't even be near him anymore, nor the teacher who ruined everything.

"Was it worth it? Was she worth losing your wife and daughter?" I had to ask.

"Bella..."

"Never mind, I have my answer."

I walked out of the room with my head held high and hugging my case to my chest as if it was my own teddy bear. I needed the comfort at the moment. I felt the salty tears streaming paths down my cheeks before I tasted the salty water on my lips.

Just like that, love was meaningless to me, when short hours ago it was everything.

* * *

My mom found out.

I didn't tell her. No, Charlie did. Although it would of been either him or me in the end, so he had no choice in that matter. If it was me, I would of told her everything. He thought best to do it himself.

I locked myself in my room and used a pillow to try to dim the yelling and smashing. It wasn't working. Nothing worked. I tried to block it out with my ear buds, blasting the rock music enough to rattle my own ear drums. When that was fruitless, I jammed my fingertips in my ears, but it was all so useless. I could hear it all.

Soon, I just ended up curled in a corner of my room, like a ball, just listing, enduring a lot of screaming and slamming of some priceless objects, and other useless object, Sobs too, there was a lot of crying. And then there were a lot of hopeless, "why's?" and, "How could you do this to us?" from my mother.

Ever minute of it tore me up. I always hated seeing my mom upset.

I lay my head on my pulled up legs, thinking. How could you be happy one day, but the next everything is being ripped away from you? I felt like a rug was pulled from underneath us, scatting everything everywhere; my whole life.

Fat tears leaked from my eyes, soon, large sobs shook my frame.

Life can be _such _a bitch.

* * *

A week after the incident which I started to call it, my mom and dad got a divorce.

It was quick and painful. Funny how a tiny signature could end something that was suppose to be a life long commitment.

"Bella, here." My mom mummer tonelessly.

I flicked my eyes over at her pausing in folding a few of my band t-shirts. She was holding another plan flat card board box out to me.

I took it grumbling, "Oh, thanks."

One of the things I hated about this divorce was me and my mom were moving away.

We live in Phoenix; I've lived here most my life, and I was solely going to miss it with ever fiber of my being.

My mom told my dad he can keep the house, that she didn't want it.

I could understand why she would want to give up the house I lived in my whole life. Every part off this house contained numerous memories, some bad and others good. It's also the house my parents had bought together with their own money as a new married couple; the start of adult hood. They were only two month pregnant with me at the time.

However, mostly, it was where my father ripped this family apart, so we would be the ones to move.

Furthermore, I and my mom are moving into the house my mom grew up in when she was a little girl down in rainy Forks. I can slightly remember the visit's we would take as a family. My grandparents both died when I was at a young age, so certain aspect of them were a bit blurry. Ironically, I could remember my grandmas cooking which were always divine and homemade, and my grandpas smell. He smelt of mint and fresh pine.

When my grandparents passed away they had gave my mom the house in their will and everything else they had owned, just on case she ever needed it. Good thing too because do we fucking need it now. Since she was the only child, there was no fighting, nor sharing when it came to that.

I placed the box on my bed after forming the structure, and glanced over at my mom once again. She looked horrible, entirety not her usual self. Her dark blond hair which was always done neatly, hung limp and unwashed, like it felt for her. Her eyes were ringed in red, puffy and swollen. The bottom of her lip was raw and painted dark red from the constant biting in a means to hold in tears.

"Mom, you alright?" I asked gently like one would do to sooth a newborn.

My mom sniffled as she folded my shirts roughly. "Yes, sweetie."

"Mom, you know it's okay to be upset about this," I told her gently while I placed bubble wrap frames in the box "I'm here for you."

It was so typical of my mom to be like this. She and me are so much alike; we both had the need to lock up our emotions and throw away the key. They say bottling it up was never a good thing, and I agree, still we do it. She and I would just plaster a fake smile on our face to keep people satisfied. Tears was also a sign of weakness, so therefore we never let anyone see us shed any.

"That's sweet Bella, but I'm fine, I swear. I'm not going to stop my life because of this... this... well I'm not going to roll dead, okay?" she replied stubborn and jutted out her bottom lip in a illusion of showing how tough she is. My mom held up a blouse then, switching the topic, "I don't understand why you never wear these shirts. They're so pretty."

She was referring to the blouse's that she bought me last Christmas. The one she was holding up was a rose pink, with a ruffle neck that descend in a deep 'v'. Did she really have to ask why they're stuck in the back of my closet forgotten instead of worn?

"I dunno." I said helplessly.

She huffed and handed me the neat stack of folded blouse's, "Maybe you should wear them, hm? This light blue would look pretty on you." She said, rubbing the fabric of the top one between her fingertips. "So soft too."

"Uh, sure, maybe." I said to please her.

No way was that ever happening.

Nevertheless she smiled slightly and it made me feel good about the tiny white lie, "Good girl. Now hurry up. I would like to leave as soon as we can. We have a big drive ahead of us yet."

"Alright... I'm almost done." I told her.

She nodded appeased before leaving my room to finish her own packing yet undone.

I turned back to my task.

Shortly later I started taping all my box's that were stuff to the brim, autographing my name on them in thick letters across the middle; B. E. L. L. A.

I examined my handiwork approvingly, until I heard a knock on my door. I gazed over my shoulder at the intruder. I snorted, "Oh. It's you."

My dad was declining against my door jam, shoulders slanted. He looked like he's been through a war, bared down in tiredness. His brown gaze darted around my now very bare room.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

I took a hold of one of the box's. "Sorry doesn't really mean much to me these days. You still did it." I said candidly, passing him quickly. The image of him and my teacher kissing burned behind my eyelids still. I feared it would be there for a long time like a permanent photo in my head.

"Bella, please, you can't stay mad at me forever," he begged following me down the hallway.

I shrugged. "You never know."

He reached my arm to stop me as I reached for the our staircase, keeping a tight grip on my arm he quickly said, "Please Bella. I never meant to hurt you or your mother. I love you, both of you."

I jolt out of his hold as if it burned and turned to glare at him. "You sure have a funny way of showing it, that's for sure," I snapped tense.

His eyes filled with hurt and sadness.

What the hell?

Shouldn't I be the one sad and hurt?

I couldn't take it or his sad eyes that look so much like mine. Is that it then? Every time I see my reflection it was going to remind me of my dad? Of what he did to us? In a coward move I looked down at my beat up Converse, avoiding his sad puppy dog eyes.

"Dad I love you too, but this is all too soon. You'll have to give me some time before you attempt to mend what's broken, okay?"

We both were silent. I had to suppress the urge to hug him, to cry, and to yell at him. At the moment I wanted to do all three.

Before I could do anything, he cleared his throat. His shoulders seemed to slump even more.

"I understand," he replied sadly.

"I'm sorry, I love you and I don't want to kick you out of my life, never could I do that. I just need to heal and mom too." I told him all the while shifting the heavy box in my sweaty hands.

He nodded his head. "Okay Bells. Here let me grab this and you can get the others."

He retrieved the heavy box from my hands.

"Thank you," I replied softly.

* * *

Just before sun set, the moving trucks were all loaded up with our stuff and ready to hit the road.

As my mom reached for the car door handle I asked heartbroken, "You're truly ready to leave it all behind?"

My mom was quiet for a few seconds with her hand still on the red handle of her car. She inclined her head back breathing deeply, before looking me straight in the eye, tears brimming her eyes, clinging there, but not falling, "Not at all." she said, her voice so faint it was carried away by the wind.

I smiled sadly and turned to look up at my house for the very last time, my mom doing the same thing.

I felt a heavy weight on my shoulder and glance over to see my mom had laid her hand there, her ring finger naked.

Together, we both gazed up at the house we were leaving behind to embark on a new journey.

"But it's something we have to do," she said.

I let out a unsteady breath. Tears clogged my throat while I started up at my childhood home, on the borderline of reducing to a quivering mess. It felt like I was leaving a huge part of myself; the whole half of my heart. A collection of memories played in front of my face, assembling into a home movie; so much happened here. My very fist kiss happened right by the swing seat on my porch, all the while my dad sly peeking through the blinds and almost killing the poor boy, to when I broke my arm from thinking I was spider monkey so making a hasty decision I climbed the tree that grew up with me. Hell my bedroom, which was where I first learned how to play my guitar, instead of studying, I was always playing escalating to who I was today. Countless birthdays and holidays we had celebrated was here, innumerable laughs, presents, feasts was shared between us. It's was just a lot to leave behind.

Unable to stare any longer, I asked, "Ready?

My mom nodded, "Yes."

She slid into our car. I peeked at my house once more before getting in also sinking in the leather seat. I shut the door and clicked on my seat-belt all the while my heart bursting with how unfair this all was.

My mom coasted a sad smile over at me, "We're be fine."

I sure hope so.

The engine roared to life.

She pulled out of the driveway.

I circled in my seat looking out the window. My dad was standing on the porch watching the car drive farther and father away, with his hands holding the back of his head, tears plummeting down his cheeks.

He broke his own heart.

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**So, I fixed this a lot... added more... and hopefully is A LOT better. It is pretty long, and I'm not to sure if all of them will be this long... We will have to see. Anyways I hope you like it so far.**

**And review's ****would be lovely, thank you.**


	2. Broken Shutters

Chapter One: Broken Shutters:

BPOV:

Gravely rocks crunched under my moms large rounded tires as she pulled her red BMW into the long narrow drive way of our new home _finally_. The drive was long and nerve wracking with all these thoughts to occupy me. I wish I had a remote so I could press an off button of these gloomy thoughts. My mom spoke at the beginning of the journey, but when she realized I wasn't really listing nor active in the conversation, she dropped it all together, and stayed silent for the rest of the ride. _Great_, now I feel like a super bitch.

Score one for fucking Bella.

"This is it." My mom's voice broke me out of the tiny pity party that I was throwing in my head.

Cue awestruck eyes. I bailey even noticed the car creased any noise, no longer on as I stared out the window with wonder.

Peering through the car window, I regarded the house. It was huge, certainly bigger then my old one. The house was painted a calming sea blue, the color sedating my over circuited emotions slightly. The spacious shutters and ridiculously huge enclosed porch had me thinking about the doll house that has been rotten in my attic for years and still was.

"Looks familiar, yes?" she asked.

It did. I visit my grandparents at a young age but that's not why it struck familiar to me. It was the doll house.

"The doll house." I mutter.

My mom smiled wistfully. "Yes. My father built the doll house by hand when I was a younger girl. I loved it to bits."

"Why'd you stick it up in the attic?" I asked.

"I wanted to give it to you Bella, kind of like I was passing it down. However, it was wreathed down with age and the paint was pealing. I had every attention in fixing it, but I just never did. It hurt to look at it when your grandpa died, so I stuffed it in the attic out of sight."

"Oh." Was all I said.

"Maybe I'll have your dad send it down, sound good?"

I gave her a tiny smile. "I'll really like that."

She smiled also before shoving her car door open. "Now, you'll love it inside. Come on."

Passively we walked up to the few stone steps the house had, opening up the screen door. At the door, my mom searched through her purse for the key, while she did that I survey my surroundings fencing on the edge of awestruck and overwhelm. The porch was a cluster of outside furniture, outdoor plants long dead, rusty tools and used clay bowls. Needless to say, my mom never came down after my grandparents passed away to clean up. Although, she did come back to pick up a few things, but didn't stay long. We haven't been back here since then.

"There you are, you sucker." I heard my mom murmur erupting a few chuckles from me.

She cast me a sheepish smile. "My purse could use a clean."

"I'm sure." I snickered.

She then stuck the key in the upside down shaped light bulb hole, turning to unlock the door. Both of us heard the muffled click, but nether moved to open the door.

I cleared my throat, "Mom?"

"Sorry Bells. Just a bit hard I guess," she said.

"I get it. We can wait out here all day until you're ready." I said.

I would too. However, I could feel the early morning chill breezing into the open screen door. I didn't need to worry. My mom, tough as she is, placed her palm on the door, saying over her shoulder. "No need Bella. I'm fine now."

With that, she gently opened the door, entering her childhood home that no doubt had so many old memories of her mom and dad.

I could see a little Renee running around. I smiled to myself.

In spite of the thin layer of dust throughout the house it really was a beautiful home.

However, it could use a little work.

A dismissed couch with a single sheet securing protection was the only thing in the large living room. The walls were peeling and had mold outlines where portraits and frames used to hang. Moving father into the house, I glanced into the kitchen which was bare and a bit outdated but had its charm all the same.

"This place could use a clean," I said appearing back in the living room where my mom still stood.

My mom grimaced and nodded her head in agreement, "Sure as hell dose. If I knew it would be this bad I would have made an extra trip up here to clean it up before we moved in."

"Really doesn't matter. It might even distract us," I told her.

A distraction might be a good thing, and here it was.

Her voice might not say so, but her eyes spoke volumes; she couldn't agree more.

She clapped her hands. "Game plan. We need to unpack the moving trucks first because I'm paying these guys by the hour, then we'll head to the story to pick up a few cleaning items and paint to work with, sounds good?"

I smiled. "Sounds perfect.

* * *

"Mom do you even remember where it is?" I asked her fearfully looking around.

After I, my mom, and the guys storage all of the boxes in the house, we went through each one and put them in the room they would go to. Instead of unpacking we hopped into the car again to buy the cleaning supplies and paints as a means to take a breather. However, I feel like we're loss. It might be the fact I'm on unknowable grounds, but it still didn't cure my fears that my mom has no idea where she was going. Its been years since she'd lived in Forks, things had to change, right?

My mom just laughed, "Yes, Bella. Forks is a very remarkably small town. I doubt things changed that much."

And just to prove it, she was pulling in the parking lot of the store a few minutes later with a smirk.

"Look at that, still here." She mused turning the car off.

It looked like half a market too me. "Where's the other half?" I asked seriously.

My mom laughed, a totally deep belly laugh while she stumbled out of the van. "Oh honey!" she yelped still in the fits of her laughter.

I slammed the door shut and crossed my arms. "What? It's a legit question mom."

Her laughter finally abating away, she wiped away her laughing tears, explaining slowly, "This is it."

My mouth formed a "o." I sort of assumed there was more to this "store" maybe an extra building tucked behind or something.

My my mom hooked her arm through mine pulling me to the entrance. "Oh honey," she signed, "Please, it's not that bad. Yes, Forks is a tad on the small side, but there are other places to go. Like Port Angeles and La Push," she reassured.

I grumbled, "I guess so," under my breath.

She dropped my arm to grab a cart, smiling. "I know Port Angeles has a few bookstores."

That piped my interest. "Yea?"

"Indeed." She said.

I aimlessly walked besides my mom as my heart surged with hope. I loved books, all kinds.

Playing the guitar, reading and writing were my favorable hobbies so I was happy there were places that provided all three.

"A music store too then?" I asked.

"Yes. That too."

In better sprites I said, "While you get the cleaning supplies, I'll go take a look at the paints, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan, but please no orange of any sort," my mom said winkling her nose.

I laughed, "No orange." I agree not preferring the color myself.

Knowing the cans of paints would no doubt be a hassle, I grabbed my own cart to place them in, and then went on the hunt for paints... only to go in one useless circle. I scratched my head confused. For such a small store I sure don't know where I'm going.

Well, this sucks.

I deiced to just go down each aisle to see if I encounter a employee or the missing paints. Either one would work.

I finally found one in aisle four.

In the center of the empty aisle was an employee's bend knees which was the only thing in sight since their head was thrust in between two shelf's, with a near empty box next to them and a clear spray bottle.

As I walked closer, I could hear mumbling, "... hate her guts. Always telling me do her fucking shit... never get the damn credit either!"

I left my cart and tipped toe closer, cutting them off, I cleared my throat hesitantly, "Uh... excuse me?"

There was a girly yelp of "Fuck!" before a head came into view. She also threw a rag impaired with grease spots and dirt at me.

The both of us started at the lump of the rag now on the floor.

Then she breathed, "Oh god... I swore... and threw a gross rag at a customer. I'm _so_ fired!"

"Hey," I said, before she could say anything else, "Relax. I'm not going to say anything. On the contrary it was my fault anyways, I shouldn't have sneaked up on you like that."

The girl let out a breath and smiled at me. "Thank you."

I shrugged. "No problem."

The girl was pretty, unfairly pretty. She had pale skin, but unlike me had a healthier glow, like a glass doll. Green eyes, bright and smiling at me were alluringly framed with long eyelashes. On the short side she reached only up to my shoulder, but manged to still have womanly curves that I'll kill for.

"I'm Alice Cullen," she introduced herself.

"Bella Swan." I encountered.

Alice smiled even brighter before picking up the rag. "I really am sorry about that. You really did give me a fright."

"Yeah. You did seem pretty intense in your work... amongst other things?" I let the question hang there.

Her mood swiftly turned to anger, "Yeah. A co-worker, _Jessica,_ always dumps her work load on me, so I have twice the amount."

I frowned. "That's unfair. Can't you tell your boss?"

"I would, if her aunt wasn't the manger."

I winced, "Ah, that sucks."

She shrugged, "I know, but it's not like I'll be working here much passed highschool anyways. I'll just have to endure her pettiness for a while."

"Too true." I mutter.

"Speaking of which... are you new?" she asked.

"Yeah. I and my mom just moved here. Next week I start school at Forks Highschool. I'm a senior."

Just saying those words made me squirm with dreadful unease.

Alice's knowing green eyes locked onto my plan brown orbs, slowly stating, "Me too."

I bit my lip giving her a tiny nod. "I'm kinda nervous." I admitted.

"Kinda?" she asked with a curl to her lips.

"Eh, yeah... uh... actually I did have to ask you something."

"Oh, right! Sure you did." Alice said. She put a serious face on and asked. "How can I help you ma'am?"

I smiled. "Do you know where I can find some paint?"

"I do!" She belted out in a tune. "Please come right this way!"

Alice hooked onto my arm, hauling me down the aisle, "Bella, I feel like we're going to be great friends, _best_ friends."

As freaky as I might have thought with someone else, I didn't find that statement completely untrue. More so, I feel whatever Alice said was law.

I suppose I had a friend.

* * *

**I hoped you guys all liked this :) if you did let me know in a review. Thanks!**


	3. Blue Paint

Chapter Two: Blue Paint:

BPOV:

"We have quite a verity here of paints and paint brushes of all sizes. Diminutive as the store is you'd be pretty surprise." Alice incessantly gabbled on all the while pulling me along for the chatty ride passing foods, pots and pans, makeup, and other store items.

She hooked a right passing aisle's five and six, and then cut a tight corner until we got to aisle eight; the last aisle, which she pulled me down. Shelves upon shelves were stocked in different color paints which Alice advertised with a flare gesture of her small hands. "And here it is!"

"You could be a show women. The ones on those television shows that advertise the prizes." I told her amused.

She smiled cheeky. "They get to wear such pretty dresses too." She signed. "Oh and they don't have to deal with the likes of _Jessica._" She visibly shivered when the name escaped her lips.

I cast a inquired look over at her before stepping up closer to the shelves to examine the paints better. "You really don't like the girl, do you?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. She runs in a 'pack' of three. All of them are awful if you were to ask me."

I drummed my finger on my chin as I processed what she said. I wonder if her school (soon my school) was the "click" sort. Where you would have A borderline of who you can and couldn't be friends with. Meaning cheerleaders would stick with the jocks, nerds would stick with the geeks, goths would stick with the potheads/loners. I think it's all very utterly abused. We're people, not playing cards. Take for instant "Concentration" or "Gold Fish." To win, is to match the cards. The only way they belong is if there exactly the same as the other.

"_Why can't I just stick a nine with a three?" _

"_Well sweetie because there not the same, and the object of the game is for them to be the same." My dad explained. _

"_But being the same is so boring." I complained while peering at the identical numbers of the nine's. _

_My dad smiled softly. "You're absolutely right Bells, like always." _

I blinked and shook my head as if my dad's voice would roll out of my ear, and crammed the heel of my palm in my eye socket, trying to rub the irritation of no sleep away. As if I need that now, taking a fucking stroll down memory lane. No fucking way.

"Bella?"

"This pack… they run the school?" I asked quickly in a tempt to not have to endure Alice's question's of my mind wonder.

She humph. "They think they do."

I laughed, shaking my head. I realized then I was digressing from the plan of choosing paints. I turned back to the million different colors, eyeing each one. In front of a sliver can each had a strip of the color that the can contained, hanging from a hook. I completely glossed over any orange colors, shimmering down the aisle. It only took a few seconds to come to the conclusion that I seriously suck at this when I'd paused on a display of all different whites that look the fucking same to me. What the hell? "All these white's look the same to me." I mutter sourly.

Alice snickered. "I can help, if you want?"

I looked at her beyond gratefully. "I would have no objections to that." I told her quickly.

She clapped her hands and skipped over to me so we were side to side.

"Okay, what exactly do you need to paint?" she asked.

"Oh… well… you see my grandparents left us their home after they passed away, and we're now living there… and could use paint job. I would say the living room could use a coat, and possibly the kitchen too. Nothing to bright though."

Alice nodded seriously. "Nothing bright, got it."

I watched on the sidelines as Alice set out to pick the paints. Her groomed eyebrows were pinched in the middle with devoted captivation and her glossed lips were taut. More so, she looked like she was in her zone. I left her to it.

Mere seconds later she called, "Got it!"

She waved me over and I complied.

Alice picked out two colors. One was a beige brown, the same color of oatmeal I use to eat as a kid. The other was a pinkish peach.

"The brown could be for the living room, and the peach for the kitchen, both are pretty settle and homey." Alice spoke.

She was completely accurate. I could see both colors a part of my new home, and I know my mom would agree. I smiled at Alice, saying, "Perfect."

And truly meaning it.

She squealed. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely." I told her. I looked around then remembering I must of left my cart in the aisle I met Alice. I rolled my eyes, of course I did, that's so typical of me.

Alice reading my face offered to run and get it.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

She waved it off, nodding her head, "Yeah, no problem. I'll be right back."

She was gone then.

While she was gone I examine the paints for shits and giggles, without no real purpose since I already had the colors I wanted. However, one caught my eye. It was the clone color of my grandparents house (now ours). More importantly, it was the color of the doll house that was still in the attic at my old home. Metal brushed my cool fingertips before it even occur to me my hand was moving. I took a hold of the handle, feeling like I had absolutely no control over my body. I heaved the paint can off the shelf, holding it, all the while thinking '_what was I doing?'_ but I knew, I knew the reason solely laid with my mom.

"Another one?"

Startled, I jumped almost dropping the blue paint. "Shit Alice!"

She giggled, "Sorry," she waved at the can, repeating, "Another one?"

I cast a sheepish look at the paint, before saying, "No... It's for a side protect."

"Okay..." She said slowly.

When I didn't elaborate, she shrugged and helped me stash the cans in the cart, blue paint included.

When that was done I said, "I think I've diverted you from your job long enough. Thanks for your help Alice, really."

She looked like a bundle of joy when she smiled at me. "It was no problem!"

With my cart of paints I waved her bye, before starting my quest of looking for my mom.

* * *

When I found my mother she wasn't alone. No, she was talking to a guy, his cart of goods forgotten as he stared at her intensely, all the while an easy smile gracing his lips, seeping charm. The guy had a medium built, his muscles not excessively beefy. I wouldn't peg him a football player back in the day nor wrestler, maybe a baseball player or hockey player however. A blue backwards cap hid his hair, the logo of some unknowing sport sign I'm sure braced over wear and dirt spots. The closer I got to the pair the more unsettle I felt. The body language of my mother and this man asserted the two knew each other, _well. _

"Mom?" I asked in a small voice.

Her shoulder's went stiff before she turned to me. "Honey!"

I settled next to her, angling the cart, honestly almost hitting the guy on purpose. The little devil on my shoulder crackled a bit at this.

My mom peered into the cart. "Found our colors?" she asked.

"Yes." I said simply while I stared at the guy unblinkingly.

His blue eyes smiled at me as he said, "You must be Bella."

"Yes. And you?" The question was accustom, except for my rude tone I spoke in.

My mom shot me a warning look before saying, "Bella, this is Phil."

"I don't ever recall you knowing a Phil?" I asked her.

In the corner of my eyes I saw Phil wince.

My mom laughed uneasy, however, I wasn't laughing. "Phil it was very nice seeing you again. Bella and I have lots to do however so we better get going."

He nodded, "Understandably. Maybe we could catch up some time... over dinner maybe?"

"She can't." I said quickly.

My mom cast me a small unreadable look."That's very generous of you, but I think I would have to pass."

"Oh." He said sadly.

"We should go." My mom mummer then.

"I'll see you around Renee." He called to our departing backs.

I glared at him.

Who the fuck was Phil?

* * *

**Review... pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese?**


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